


Water Conservation

by Flotsam-N-Jetsam (CardinalMark)



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25982767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalMark/pseuds/Flotsam-N-Jetsam
Summary: ‘Just trying to save on water, huh?’ Giggling as he teases his fingers up her sides. Just this side of ticklish.A hot, steamy, and swampy day has Gibbs conserving water and Jack playing the wild card.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Kudos: 44





	Water Conservation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration was two fold. One: Kurt Vonnegut. Paraphrasing: ‘Practice an art. No matter how well or badly. To experience becoming, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.’ 
> 
> Two: Being entertained by a Tumblr exchange that went something like this: 
> 
> ‘How fast can one of y’all drop a Slibbs smut request?? I’m just asking for a friend.’ 
> 
> ‘Meaning you want someone to write it or you want someone to come up with a request?’
> 
> ‘I would like that, yes, please.’
> 
> ‘So both? Because I can only do one of them. Singular. :P’
> 
> ‘Both at once. SCHRODINGER’S SLIBBS SMUT.’ ‘(But I will accept one. Or the other.)
> 
> And I thought to myself, why not both? Schrodinger’s Slibbs smut. Light bulb! The answer to how fast to write? Not very. Though, hopefully worth the wait! 
> 
> Be gentle. Its my first.

A heat wave had been gripping the region the past couple weeks. Leaving dry shirts in short supply and tempers even shorter. Sweaty. Dusty. Glasses fogging. Thick, heavy air, sweat beading up, leaving a continuous light shean. Clothes sticking. Dust and dirt clinging to everything and everyone.

Processing their most recent crime scene had taken most of the day. While the team photographed, sorted, poked, prodded, and crawled over and under, Gibbs and Sloane canvassed the neighborhood. Talking to neighbors. The hot, wet days making finding leads difficult with most people staying indoors taking advantage of their central air. Sloane was having more luck. Connecting with a gaggle of kids out playing street hockey. 

Stuffing the last of her evidence bags into a bin in the MCRT truck, ‘ugh! I can’t _wait_ to get a shower when we get back.’ 

Plucking his tee shirt off his chest, Torres grimaced, ‘yeah. Get this funk and gunk washed off.’ 

‘I’ve got to get this, whatever it _is_ off before seeing the twins.’ Tim grouced giving himself a once over.

‘Good thing Ericson fixed the AC in the truck.’ Hiding her smirk, ‘otherwise I may pass out from the funk wafting off you two.’ Bishop deadpanned. 

Turning and giving them a once over, ‘I can almost see the stink vapor wafting off you guys.’ At the mirror image glares, she wagged her finger between the two and held her nose. Her eyes narrowed in mischief. 

‘ _Us?’_ Clearing his throat after that high pitch squeak, whining ‘Bishop, there is _no way_ you don’t have swamp ass too!’

‘Swamp ass?’ 

Catching McGee’s confusion, ‘You _know_ , all that sweat dripping down your back and pooling _RIGHT_ in between your butt cheeks.’ shaking his butt and wiggling his eyebrows. 

‘And fermenting,’ 

Torres emphasis on the latter word was key to McGee’s sudden enlightenment. ‘Oh.’ 

‘We don’t sweat. We glow Nick.’ Ellie said with a feathering hand to her dusty face. Her laughter stopped short at Nick's wide eyes and pouty, pursed lips.

‘Hey, boss.’ McGee warned.

Clamping her lips closed on another retort, after her slow turn brings her eyeball to eyeball with Gibbs.

‘We done _here_? Gibbs demanded. Glaring at the group. 

‘Swamp ass,’ directing his glare at Torres as he starts heading for his car.

Babbling, ‘yup, yup’ he turned securing their gear and shutting the barn doors on the truck.

Heading to the driver side of the truck, ‘ready to roll boss,’ McGee chimed in. 

‘Shower here I come!’ Bishop exclaimed as she ascended the running boards into the MCRT truck. 

Catching Ellie’s excitement, she matches his striding pace towards the sedan. 

_He’s strutting._

_And it's SEXY._

With a raised eyebrow, she catches his eye, glancing his way with a cat that ate the cream smirk. Rolling his eyes, trying to hide his own smirk, he minutely shakes his head back and forth. With a roll of her shoulders and toss of her hair, Sloane slides in the passenger seat. Jaw set. Thrust forward with lips set into a thin line. Her feigned pout was broken when he casually added, ‘could have done _that_ this morning.’ 

Slowly locking his gaze, leaning closer, humming her approval. Sloane slowly runs her tongue over her lips and along her teeth. Parting. Pausing. 

Blinking in surprise, her laughter filled the car as the tips of his ears began to turn multiple shades of pink. 

\--------

A long breath in bombards him with the smell of his soap and shampoo mingling with whatever lotion and perfume that has been assaulting his mind. All. Day. Long.

Waking to rumpled sheets smelling of a mixture of him and her. Tossing his right arm over he finds her side empty and cool. Her perfume from the previous day faint, but it still fogs up inside his head. Catching the shower going, he shunts the sheet off his torso. Crumpling them onto her side of the bed. Silently making his way to the en-suite bath. Stepping to miss the creaking spots of the wood floor by muscle memory.

It wasn’t the thought of sex in the morning that had him stripping on his way to the shower. It was teasing her with a promise of it later. Tossing his boxers and tee shirt in the hamper as he stalked by. Slipping the curtain silently aside and stepping into the rising steam as water was rinsing down her in rivulets and suds. 

Feeling the change in air, ‘we don’t have time for hot and wild monkey sex this morning Gibbs.’ Shaking her head and chucking. Slapping at his roving hands.

‘No?’ he pouted playfully while strategically avoiding her hands and drawing her into his chest by her hips. 

Escaping his hold with a shifting turn, and with a mock scowl Sloane firmly shakes her head back and forth. 

‘Water conservation. Hasn’t rained in weeks.’ he deadpans. 

‘Just trying to save on water, huh?’ Giggling as he teases his fingers up her sides. Just this side of ticklish. Kissing a favorite spot besides her ear, ‘mmmmmm, hmmmmm.’ 

A promissory note. To be collected later. 

\--------

At a stop light, ‘...for water conservation. You know, there is a drought.’ She softly murmured drawing him closer to her side of the car. 

LIttle shit using his EXACT words from the morning. His heart does a stutter stop and start at the idea. She’s a complex lady and a wild card all in one seductive package. They both _D_ O need a shower. Where that happens….

Shaking the memory off, with a warm look her way ‘monkey sex later.’ 

‘Mmmm, hmmm. N’kay.’ she pauses as if measuring his offer. With a heated tone that seemingly has a direct link to his groin, ‘hot _and_ wild.’ As if she’s striking a bargain with him. Collecting on that promissory note from the morning. 

\--------

The Navy Yard was quickly empting with most folks taking advantage of the late summer heat wave. Heading _anywhere_ cooler. His team wasted no time logging in the day’s accumulated evidence in the garage. Efficiently working together to enter the bagged items for processing later. Sorting what is to go to the lab and Kasie, what stays in the evidence lock-up, and what goes to Palmer. 

Inexplicably, he found himself heading towards the garage rather than his desk. Offering to finish up processing the crime scene items in the evidence garage. 

_Inexplicably. Lying to yourself?_

_Again?_

Catching their fish-like gaping, ‘Go ahead. I’ll finish up here.’ Nodding towards the elevator. 

‘Are you sure Boss? Won’t take us long.’ McGee protested in confusion. 

Catching Torres’s glare at McGee, ‘Go. Get cleaned up.’ his growl more forceful than intended.

As the elevator doors are closing, he catches the end of the team's conversation. ‘McGee. _WHAT_ were you thinking man?!’ explained Torres. “Boss man gives us a green light to boogie and you press him.’ 

‘Nick stop.’ Bishop implores. ‘Just go hit the showers.’ She says with a smile and pinching her nose. 

‘You’ve got swamp ass.’ 

\--------

_You’re thinking about monkey sex. Aren't ya._

Making his way to the bullpen he rights himself as he studer walks a few steps. Catching Sloane ascending the stairs to her office. He’s been appreciating the view from the backside all day long. 

Catching movement to her left, Jack slows her pace as she approaches the top of the landing. Watching _him_ move. Nibble fingers sorting through papers, tapping lightly on keys checking his email. Reaching down to grab his go bag, he catches her out staring. With a questioning smile and raised eyebrow, he tilts his head towards the showers. 

Playing coy, she shrugs her shoulders and smiles with a light downward tilt to her lips, ‘you had your opportunity Cowboy.’ Continuing her trek up the stairs, ‘though I reserve my right to change my mind,’ she playfully taunts over her shoulder.

Rounding the top of the stairs, she catches Nick’s and Tim’s voices wafting up from the bullpen. ‘Save me any water,’ nodding at the two. Casually adding ‘swamp ass’ as he walks by the guys with his go back over his shoulder. Just this side of too loud. Heading towards the showers, Gibbs steals a glance over his shoulder at the landing just in front of the MTAC door. His stomach suddenly drops seeing no one but the steel door. Weaving slightly, as he continues to the showers. 

Her plotting began on the drive back to the Navy Yard. Scanning the parking lot. Catching Gibbs detour to the evidence garage. Catching up with Ellie on her way to the locker room. Picking up her pace after rounding the top of the stairs to the balcony and past MTAC, blood rushing and echoing in her ears as she strides into her office. Her left hand simultaneously rubbing and pressing against her stomach, Jack quickly grabs her go bag. Retracing her steps through the bullpen to get a read on the team, other remaining agents, and double check the cars still left in the lot. Having worked enough late nights, the lot was filled with mostly cleaning staff vehicles. A passing smirk the only external sign of the spreading warm glow and victory dance threatening to explode out of her. 

Walking down the hallway, her entire body is suddenly flushed, frozen, and wondering what is she even thinking? 

_Had she been thinking?_

\--------

_Empty._

Doubling back to the door, watching as her fingers gently turn the lock closed. Pausing. Waiting. Listening. The sound of her heart beat in her ears. Grinning at her toes. Curling and uncurling them, her hand rubbing up and down her stomach, letting the sound of water spraying on tile guide her to his stall. 

His stall? Does he have _a usual_ shower stall? Is it always the farthest one from the door? 

He _is_ a Marine. 

Or was it his dirty mind _HOPING_ she would follow through on her suggestion at the stop light? 

Cradling his forehead against his bicep, letting the hot water beat against the back of his neck. The odd position allowing Gibbs to keep his face out of the spray and get the benefit of the massaging water. Feeling the strain of the day slide off his skin. Allowing the spray to flow in rivulets down his back and all six feet of him. Slowly pulling the sweat, dust, and day down to his feet and the drain.

Noise is her enemy. 

_Patience Sloane._

At the moment, the culprits are the metal rings between her and six feet of deliciousness. The water spray covers the snort that nearly fully slips past her lips. Regaining control, she realizes her meditation and breathing exercises are paying off. 

_He responds to patience and stubbornness. He’s got THAT in spades._

Slowly pushing the shower curtain aside, watching the swirl of steam disappear from around his heels. Admiring the sleek contours of his calves, to his lower back, and up to his broad, sturdy shoulders. She had been appreciating the view of his backside all _damn_ day. More often than not, pausing to admire how the muscles of his butt flexed as he moved or shifted. His eyes closed, Gibbs doesn’t see the shifting curtain. Lost in the hot water beating down his back, he doesn’t feel the change from heat to cool against his back. 

And _Jack._

_And monkey sex._

She slides a cool hand up his back and another along his waist. Head snapping up, skin feeling the rush of cool against hot, all his muscles going taut. Shifting away from the spray, he braces a hand along the tile, his spine is Marine straight. Undeterred by his flinch and the beating spray between her and her target, lifting on her toes Jack lays a brief kiss behind his ear. ‘Doors locked Cowboy’ she hums mischievously. Her whispered hot breath sends spikes of heat down to his groin. 

‘ _Jesus_ Sloane.’ His ragged breath sending his voice down an octave. 

His pulse in his neck matching the fervent beat of the spray, seemed at odds with the sudden straight back tension of his torso soften, ease. As if that was a signal, she moves closer, closing the gap between them. Sliding her hands down to his hips, splaying her fingers while pressing her breasts against his back, and stomach nestling against his butt.

‘Ya do _know_ this is the _men's_ locker?’ he deadpanned with feigned seriousness. 

Sliding her hands up and down his ribs, like keys on a piano. Feeling the ones that have been broken and healed slightly off. A tisk clicking against her teeth upon feeling one prominent nub of bone. Gliding her hands under his arm pits, splaying her fingers across his upper chest. 

‘ _It is_?’ she mock-exclaimed. 

‘I must have gotten the door’s mixed up.’ she added with a casual seductive chuckle that sent an electric spark shivering through him from the arches of his feet, back up to the short hairs on the back of his head. Slowly sliding her fingers around and down, across his nipples, flicking each with her finger tips. Moving further south, taking advantage of the slickness of the water on his skin. Fascinated at how the years have left scars along his skin but appreciating how he’s kept his body fit and trim. Slowly whisper light, trailing her fingertips across his stomach and lower. Along the trail of hair leading down. 

_LOWER._

At the sound of him hissing a sucking breath in through his teeth, she teases her fingers back up his stomach, feeling his muscles, clinching, flexing trying to steady his breath. Closing his eyes, he relaxes back against her. Taking advantage of his shift, sliding one palm to rest just under his sternum. Searching for the notch just near his heart. Between his pecs. Drawing a triangular pattern with her fingers, while her other hand trails a seductive rhythm back down his stomach. 

Being the big spoon allows her to revel in being the woman who gets to touch him. Marveling at his mix of strength and softness. Thankful that the years have not been _too_ rough on his body. Rubbing her cheek along his spine, between his shoulder blades, mapping the various old wounds. Laying soft, open mouth kisses along the various scars from years of protecting others. With a slow, controlled inhale, Gibbs redirects her exploring hand to his hip. Only to have her other hand slide down between his thighs, the backside rubbing along his cock. He’s half hard already. With a smug smile pressed against his back, she shifts her hand and palms him. Fully. 

Enjoying the well of heat, she slowly strokes along his length, fanning her fingertips across his tip. Making an okay with her forefinger and thumb, she rubs down his length, from tip to base. And back again. Keeping a rhythm she finds, repeating various stroking motions until he leans his head back. A low, throaty growl, comes off him. Humming her approval, she grabs him fully. Wrapping her palm and fingers round the base of his cock. Giving him a firm squeeze and tug. 

‘Wait,’ his voice shaky with desire. Almost fully hard, Gibbs quickly stills her hand. If he doesn't slow her down, this will be the shortest shower in history. 

_Sultry woman one._

_Infamous Marine control._

_ZERO._

Stepping forward, shifting to keep the spray off his face. Allowing it to flow down over her shoulders. Eye’s lingering on hers. Black irises overtaking hazel honey brown’s. Scanning from her mouth down to her toes and back. Gifting her with a lazy grin. Showing appreciation for her and her efforts. 

Catching his breath, he grabs a shampoo bottle and squirts some into his hands and begins to slowly massage it into her hair. Keeping the spray at his back. With an amused huff he raises her hands to his chest, ‘keep your hands to yourself.’ 

‘Close your eyes.’ he hums to her. Blinking, raising her eyebrows. With a soft, delicate rumble, ‘It stings.’ he nods up at the suds. Laughing at herself, closing her eyes and letting him massage his fingertips and scrape his nails along her scalp. 

Taking turns with the shampoo, conditioner, and soap, they wash the dust, grime, and sweat off each other. Slowly rinsing the suds off taking turns under the shower head. Using their hands to remove the soap or shampoo that sticks to their skin and hair. Soft caresses and whispered words, slowly teasing as the water warms their muscles and slicks their skin.

Taking advantage of the spray at his back, he rolls her over in his arms. Putting his front against her back. Slowly slipping his hands down her arms and up her water slicked sides. Slipping one hand under her armpit, gliding splayed fingers along her collarbone. His forefinger settling into the notch at the base of her neck. Tapping to a found rhythm. Waiting.

Tap, pause, tap, pause, tap. 

A slow rise, and gentle fall follows a barely perceptible nod. Lids sliding closed. Sliding tapping fingers up to cradle her cheek. Guiding her back to cradle against the hollow of his shoulder. Leaning back against his length, continuously marveling how her soft curves fill in his edges and angles. Tilting her head into the crease of his bicep and shoulder, providing access to her neck. Her breathing slow and steady, in complete contradiction to the thunderous beats threatening to break out. 

Humming and rubbing his cheek in a soothing tempo. Feeling the bristle of his late day beard scrubbing against her skin along her temple. The motion sends shock waves through her nerves and goosebumps down her arms. Heat waving through her. 

_Lower._

He finds that spot at the base of her ear. _THAT_ sweet spot he found on their first date. That when his mouth touches it, just a barely there caress and follows with a whispered blow against the wetness, _JUST like that._ Shivers flow down her spine, pooling in her groin. As if her ear and groin have a direct connection.

And he _knows_. 

Entwining his fingers with hers, raising them to rest her palms against the shower tile. Moving as if he was made of heated caramel, his fingers slide along her hands, circling her wrists with his thumb and forefinger. Rubbing his palms along her lower arms, to the bend of her elbows, frictioning heat along her skin. 

Slowly, languidly, as if he had all the time and hot water in the world, Gibbs traces his hands up her arms, massaging her biceps, triceps, and deltoids. Fingertips give slightly more pressure than the water beating down against them. Shifting to massage her shoulders, a low moan escapes on her exhale. Hitting the pressure points, digging in gently with thumbs along her shoulder blades and spine. 

Her sigh drowned out by the spray, as she relaxed further in his hands. Feathering fingertips slowly and teasing down her ribs. Almost the wrong side of ticklish. 

_Almost._

Fingers heated and slick and slippery. Easing his chest away, leaning back while keeping their hips connected. Pausing his hands just at the curve of her lower back and butt. Admiring the benefits her boxing addiction has had on her back and shoulders. Saying a silent prayer of thanks. Leaning in, laying a reverent kiss along her nape. Massaging up along her spine, mapping the scars and muscles with a reverence and care that other men all too often ignored. Or were too scared. Or….

He has her muscles feeling liquid. Wondering if she’d collapse at his feet without support. Or her hands resting against the tile. Or both. A low pitched moan, escapes her throat. A deep vibration of need and want. Chuckling at the sound, a slow, easy grin spreads at the pure pleasure of pleasing her. 

Jack can feel his erection, full and hard, nestled between her butt cheeks. Wondering how he can be so slow and languid with, patient, stroking hands, while his need and want is _SO_ insistent against her. Smiling a laugh as strong palms slide down the muscles along either side of her spine and between them. Cupping and firmly squeezing her butt cheeks. Bemused in that he can’t seem to get enough of them. Flashes of catching him stealing glimpses while in the bullpen or MTAC, grabbing a cuppa, or anywhere really. 

His hands make their way back up her sides, slipping around to her breasts. Cradling, palming them. Rolling a nipple between fingers and thumb. Sliding back down her ribs and stomach. Marveling at being able to touch her. 

_Every._

_Breathtaking._

_Inch._

A preening smirk steals across his lips. Enjoying drawing each moan, groan, growl, and hiss out of her. Each whispered word of awe. 

_Lucky bastard._

_Yup._

Humming, one palm slowly slides up and cradles a breast in his palm, while shifting his wrist so his fingers capture the nipple. Taking advantage of a shift to her hips, his long, strong fingers tease between thumb and forefinger. Rolling, tweaking to a taught peak. Leaving her moaning, his hand glides along her stomach, circling her belly button. Then _down._ To her hip. To the crease between thigh and torso. Slowly drawing a line from her hip towards her groin with his index and middle fingers. A slow rhythm back and both, edging closer and closer with each caress. 

Gliding both palms back to her hips, splaying his long fingers across her taut stomach. Feeling a slight flutter from a sharp intake. Her attempt to moderate her breathing, slow the banging of her heart against her ribs. Failing. 

_Miserably_. 

Wonderfully, failing. 

Leaning fully back onto his chest, she draws her arms down the tile, laughing at the squeaks mingling with their whispered words. Interlacing her hands with his. Comforted by the echoing squeeze of his fingers with hers. Turning her head so her cheek is against his, feeling his lips curl into a smile, purring ‘so much for water conservation.’ 

Shifting his mouth to the curve at the base of her neck and shoulder, a breathy laugh comes off her. Catching along her neck with his teeth, nipping and sucking then soothing with a sinuous swipe of his tongue. A hissing sound escapes through her teeth. Feeling heat blossom in her groin and nipples tighten from the arousal. Keeping one hand entwined with hers against her stomach, he firmly presses her back into his groin, and _very insistent_ cock. Slipping a hand free of hers. Sending his fingers running down her hips, fingers caressing as they move south. 

Heart thumping out of control, trying to break free of her ribs, blood pulsing, rushing through her ears. Thigh’s clenching in anticipation. 

Sliding one finger lower, across her cleft. Finger tips teasing along the edges. His calloused trigger finger pressing closer. His clever, skillful fingers _FINALLY_ slide between her. Teasing her clit with first one flick, then another. His motions repeating as to a rhythm all of his own. Enjoying the long tease. Fulfilling that morning's promise. 

She wanted to widen her stance, give those strong and delicate fingers more room. But Gibbs had her trapped by his feet. Upper body to his hips pressed tight against her back. He paused, feeling her tension, muscles taut, followed by a sudden, shallow shaky breath. 

Pausing. Evaluating. Feeling...protected. Strong arms wrapped around her stomach and hips, shoulders rounded encircling, and firm thighs holding steady. Not by this man. Not in that position. 

The prime word being _this_ man. 

Feeling her muscles relax again after a long, slow steadying breath, his fingers set a tango like pace. Fast, fast, slow. Sucking in a ragged breath, arching her spine and throwing her head back against his shoulder. Returning her hands up against the shower wall, fingers splayed. Supporting them both as he presses harder into the back of her, slipping one, then another finger inside her, angling his wrist to keep the pace against her clit with his thumb. 

A low, shallow hum escapes her lips as her muscles begin to tighten, toes curling, fingers flexing against the tile. His fingers curled, circled and danced. Driving her to a peak and then tortuously bringing her back down. Just to do it again. Soft caresses, leisurely and deliberate. Pleasure rising and ebbing. 

A throaty, growl vibrated from her. ‘Yesssssssssss. God, yesssssssssss.’ She repeated. 

When he had finally heard her plead enough, her orgasm caught her by surprise, unprepared for the force of it. Banging her face against the tile, it gripped her body, and shot through her like lighting. Burning every single nerve end as if singeing them all at once.

As it began to fade, whipping her around to capture her mouth with his. Taking advantage of her surprised gasp, sliding his tongue between her lips. Forceful, demanding, taking control. Sliding his tongue along hers. Swirling. Twirling. Tasting a mix of warmth and strength. Enjoying how her limbs tangle and entwine and soften. 

_Coffee._

_Sugar._

A steely forearm wraps around her lower back. Pulling her up on her toes, flush against his chest. Heat shoots out along her nerves from deep inside, down to her toes and up to her scalp. Tingling. His insistent cock thrumming against her stomach. Her arms catch on faster than her brain, as she finds them wrapped around his shoulders. 

_Fog rolling in, clouding every conscience thought..._

_Limbs moving with their own agenda…_

_Careful what you seek..._

Gently shifting his hips side to side, he walks them closer to the tiled wall. Never relinquishing her lips. Following his lead, clasping her hands behind his neck as he slides slick hands along her back. Down, cuping her ass. At pressure from his fingertips, and with a nudge up against the shower wall, she slowly raises her thighs to his hips. Feeling the contrast between the cool shower tile against her back and the heat from his chest against hers, goosebumps form in waves along her forearms. Using the wall and her legs for leverage, she wraps them around his waist as he lifts her up and slowly glides his cock inside her. 

_Every._

_LAST._

_Inch._

Languidly sliding up until he hits the back of her. Her body arches, shoulders pressing into the tile, leaning back he catches a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting simultaneously. As she adjusts to his cock, she comes again. Before he’s even begun to move inside her. 

A fire of need and want. The next few minutes are hard and fast, and totally satisfying.

‘Holy hell,’ he mumbles. Voice ragged and rough. Slowly pulling out and lowering her. His breathing not yet smooth, trying to get his racing heart to settle. Skin crinkling, smiling softly. Tipping his head low, quickly licking her nipple and blowing to cool and watch it tighten. Satisfaction filling his face. 

Leaving her tingling, he reaches behind them and turns off the water. Drawing open the shower curtain, he leans down chastly kissing her. ‘Was that on your ‘to do’ list too Sloane?’ asking with a grin that was equally cocky and bemused. 

She smacks him on the ass as he exits the shower. Gifting him with a special smile. One that says so much more than the movement of lips, eyes crinkling, and cheeks moving. One that lets him know how much he pleased her and she enjoyed herself. 

And, we are _definitely_ doing it _that way_ _again._

_Soon._

\--------

Each grab surreptitious glimpses of skin getting dried and covered. Like two high schoolers after skinny dipping in a pond. Without the giggling. 

Finishing before Jack, Gibbs tries to catch one last glimpse. 

‘Didn't you get enough in the shower?’ she asks with just her eyes raised and amusement in her voice.

Shifting his shoulders up and down and feeling heat along the tips of his ears, he graces her with a shy smile and slight shake of back and forth of head. 

_Enough?_

_Nope._

_Definitely nope._

\--------

Existing the women’s locker, Bishop hears Torres muttering to himself walking down the hall. 

‘Still here Nick?’ 

‘Ugh. _Bishop_. What is with the cleaning crew locking the doors?’ He protested. 

Sulking, ‘I had to walk down to the bathrooms by interrogation.’

Eyeballing Nick and tilting her head. Narrowing her eyes and scrunching her lips to the side. “You _KNOW_ ….’ 

‘Know...’ 

Putting a finger to his lips, the women’s locker room was _EMPTY._ And since WHEN does GIbbs offer to finish logging the evidence? 

‘WHAT?’ Exasperated, Torres asks with a warning in his voice.

And Jack. Where _was Jack_? 

With a slow drawl of contemplation, ‘Locker room is empty.’ 

‘So.’ eyes narrowing and lips pressing together. 

Clarifying quickly, ‘no cleaners in there?’

‘Nope.’ 

Shaking her head back and forth, ‘nope. Just wait for it…’ Putting up her index finger. Waggling it. To quash any further conversation.

‘Wait for….’ 

‘Shush’ she sharply admonishes him. 

Keeping out of the sight line of the door, but close enough to hear, they wait. 

Shush. Click. A dark vertical crack appears along the vertical edge of the door, and a mix of cool and humid air escapes. Suddenly the door is thrown wide.

\--------

He gives a slight nod towards the door and raises an eyebrow. Nodding in response, he slowly unlocks the door. Opening it he moves to wave her through, but she catches a palm on the door. Holding it. A finger to her lips. Keeping the door cracked open. Seeing no one, with one last lingering look up and down his frame, she swings it open. 

Walking towards the elevator as she exits... 

‘OH! You are _SO_ busted!’ Playfully exclaiming to her friends back. 

Whipping around a blush starts spreading across her cheeks. Deepening and radiating lower upon first connecting with Ellie’s then Nick’s smirking gaze. 

Glancing at each other than Jack, the two spies proceed to stand put. 

Waiting. 

Tossing his gear bag over his shoulder and existing, Gibbs glares at Bishop and then Torres. Side eyeing Jack. 

‘Water conservation.’ 

With a swift kiss to Jack’s cheek, he grabs her hand, a slight strut to his steps. Making their way to the elevator, he entwines his fingers with hers. Catching Sloane at a loss, he brings her hand up and softly brushes his lips across the back. Eyes going stormy blue and mischievous. 

Pushing the garage floor button, he graces her with _THAT_ grin. The one he uses when he KNOWs he had satisfied her. Part cocky, part lasciviousness, part wicked pride. 

Stepping into the elevator, sighing with contentment she glanced down to their entwined fingers and back up. With genuine appreciation in her voice, ‘yes.’ Answering his cheeky question from their shower.

Flicking her eyes along his long length, appreciating, measuring, evaluating. Heated brown eyes have him dipping his jaw lower. Leaning into his chest, aligning her hips to his. 

Taking advantage of his sharp intake, she rises on her toes, shifting her chin up. Placing a soft caress to the corner of his lips. A heated palm to his chest for leverage, she by-passes his lips. Snagging and tweaking her teeth along his jaw, following with a soothing swipe of her tongue towards his ear. 

Whispering with a hot breath, ‘we are _definitely_ doing that again.’ 

Placing a hot breath kiss by his ear, ‘Soon….’ 

**Author's Note:**

> I read. Alot. And generally anything and everything. Newspapers. Books. Journals. FanFiction. Magazines. I especially have enjoyed many creations of Slibbs writers. As long as it doesn't make my head hurt, I’ll read it. If a description, or phrase, or phrases or terms of endearment seem similar or other, and has you narrowing your eyes, it's not intentional. My brain picks up things I read the way the ocean picks up and distributes flotsam and jetsam. It's likely my brain went, ‘woa thats awesome the way that writer spun those words into a picture!’ and subconsciously it's been floating and banging about my gray matter. For no other reason than to daydream about a favorite character later. All errors are mine.


End file.
